


The Wild Party

by sycamoretree



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit (2012) RPF
Genre: Drinking, Hilarious drunken men, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 01:30:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sycamoretree/pseuds/sycamoretree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill to prompt on the Hobbit kink meme: Why was Dean O'Gorman so hungover the day after the premiere which James Nesbitt revealed at the vh1 dwarves interview? This story contains an answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hair, barrels, bar

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt details: shot-drinking contests, shenanigans, James being an enabler, drunken cuddling, sexy time, morning-after teasing. My first RPF, and I apologize to the cast and want to point out that everyone is miraciously single in this fic. I've borrowed a lot material from interviews and such with the cast, so you'll probably recognize some references. Video of the interview here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X6pYok9ES6Q

After Dean O’Gorman returned from a bathroom break to the large round table where the dwarf cast sat on sofas, conveniently close to the bar the production company had booked for the celebratory premiere night, he received a new glass filled to the brim with dark beer, and a slap on his back from James Nesbitt.

“We missed you! We were just talking about who’s going to be the romantic fans’ underdog in looks. I vote for me, but some of the others agree that Richard is a given, but we’ve also heard Martin’s name and yours be mentioned. And Benedict’s voice, but that doesn’t count because we’re talking looks, not voice porn. If that was that case, you all know I’d win in a heartbeat with my cute accent.”

This bold statement was immediately contested by upset and vain actors.

“Fuck you, you’re not that cute!”

“Ian Holm's voice is very cozy, I’ll have you know.”

“What about Richard’s voice?! Did none of you hear him sing Misty Mountains at the showing today?” Adam Brown exclaimed, clearly insulted on Richard Armitage’s behalf whereas Richard sat immobile and looked like a willow waiting for an ongoing tempest to blow over, not touching his red wine that matched his tie from the premiere. At least Richard had traded his suit jacket for a black leather jacket.

Dean was secretly relieved that his actual employer; Peter Jackson, was away being interviewed along with Martin Freeman, Andy Serkis and Ian McKellen this night. The young blonde felt less comfortable in front the press than those experienced four. And with them gone, however pleasant their presence would have been, this enabled Dean to turn goofy without inhibitions this party night that was supposed to rock. It helped getting into party mood when he had changed from his dapper attire earlier this day to a colorful plaid flannel shirt and dark blue jeans.

“Wait,” Dean interrupted the beginning disagreement and sought out Aidan Turner’s unruly locks in the group. “What about Aidan?”

The others started to groan and face-palm at him. “He’s never been destined to be an underdog, idiot! He’ll be the ladies’, and gentlemen’s top choice, of course. Alongside with Richard,” Ken Stott explained briskly beside Dean.

Dean waggled his eyebrows in Richard’s direction. “Have you realized what this means, Richard? Single girls will watch all your works, scrutinize every official picture of you and you’ll finally be the most sought-out man in Britain, which you were destined to. Good luck.”

Dean raised his glass at Richard but the man who played the main character amongst the dwarves folded his arms over his chest, so the biceps bulged under the ironed shirt he wore and the fabric stretched as he expanded his chest with a large huff.

“Stop trying to make me nervous. It’ll be fine. Anyway, people should rather enjoy the movie than me, because that’s where the true craftsmanship and art lie.”

Aidan emitted teasingly over the table, “And I bet they will appreciate the movie, especially every scene where you toss your lovely hair in the wind and look like a brooding James Dean, only hairier.”

The cast laughed and shared a toast for Richard’s hairy face. Dean smiled fondly at the man in question who joined them in good humor, even if his cheeks might have turned tinted.

James spoke up for himself in the ‘good looks conversation’ even as he undid the top buttons on his white shirt and loosened the blue checkered tie rebelliously. “But I’ve made a name for myself in the world before this project. My fans already think I’m fucking grand. And I resemble my character so they will enjoy me both as Bofur and myself.”

“Me, myself, and Mr. Nesbitt,” Jed Brophy interjected and James beamed, not seriously full of himself, just a little. Then James bumped his shoulder into Dean in an indicating way and asked teasingly, “What of you, Deano of Down Under? Any sheilas coming your way now that you’re famous?”

James grinned and Dean punched him on the arm. “Stop mocking my heritage! And I’m not an Aussie.”

***

“Hey, speaking of barrel-riding…” Adam began randomly, but was cut off by another loud laugh and Stephen Hunter’s call over the noise, “We weren’t even talking about barrels!”

“Shh, let him change the subject,” Richard uttered with authority in his defense and Dean shot him a suspicious look. Did Richard on purpose take the first chance to save himself from further being the center of their conversation? And how had Dean himself been able to finish half his beer so quickly, even as the drink left a bitter burn in his mouth at every swig?

A bit self-consciously, and aware of his steadily drunker self, Dean rested his hand on the back of his own neck and lounged in the sofa, stretching his legs beneath the table as much as could be accomplished with a dozen other pair of legs in designer trousers and jeans residing there as well. He could afford to take a break from the drinking and just enjoy the company, if only to sober up a bit.

Adam adjusted his glasses and grinned. “Yeah, well, I remembered the shooting of the barrel scenes when you mentioned Richard’s wig. You were completely drenched,” he remarked with excitement and Richard threw his arms in the air and exclaimed, “Again with the hair!”

Then Adam continued. “Remember how we had to basically flee head over heels from a shooting spot when the river was going to flood a few hours later? How the crew told us afterwards that they cleared the area really fast so nothing would be swept away by the water?”

Everyone nodded at the memory and waited for Adam’s final point. The guy’s eyes shone brightly and as he gestured with his hands, Dean caught a whiff of his aftershave, or so he thought, because he doubted John Callen or William Kircher, who sat near Adam, would like to smell of raspberry. The assembled actors’ expectations had by now reached staggering height as they awaited Adam’s punch line.

Adam exclaimed loudly, “That was wild!”

Nothing else followed, and Dean wondered if they would start to laugh at Adam’s amazing silliness soon, when Mark Hadlow turned to Peter Hambleton and asked seriously without batting an eye, “And what did you think of the weather yesterday?”

This made the tension vanish and they all chuckled and William heartedly trapped Adam’s head under his arm and rubbed his hair while the young, inebriated man giggled and protested at the same time. But the weather subject transformed into a conversation about the climate and landscape of New Zealand, and the working conditions they had all suffered through. Richard didn’t participate much, but he did look considerably intrigued while he still carefully sipped his first glass of wine.

”It is a dangerous country, and it’s not exactly helping when you find a native frog in your trailer,” Graham McTavish grunted tersely and shot a nasty glare at James who suddenly carried a surprisingly enigmatic expression on his face.

“I will deny that accusation ‘til the day I die, or more proof is presented.”

Dean’s glass was empty. That wouldn’t do on a premiere night.

***

“Time to check out the bar, guys!” he cheered and jumped up, nearly falling over James’ legs as alcohol travelled swiftly in his veins at the sudden move and his balance was a bit off. Okay, so maybe he usually had drinks in clubs where he was mostly dancing and standing. But he caught himself in time and made it out from the crowded table in one piece.

The others followed behind and audibly agreed that by now they had become tired of only tasting different kinds of brew.

“Okay, what to have, what to have?” Stephen pondered and rubbed his hands together excitingly.

"On the subjects of bars, have you heard this one; a blonde walks into a bar..." Richard began, on the verge of telling them one of the three jokes he knew by heart, when Ken stood on his toes to clasp a hand over his mouth. Ken shook his head gently.

"Shh, Richard. No."

As the men took seats or stood by the bar to order, they seriously discussed the pros and cons to each man’s decision until everybody had a glass of something in their hand. Dean deemed most of them very bold for trying experimental drinks, but some variation now and then had never hurt anyone.

As the men began to chatter in smaller groups, Dean nosed at his neon green mojito before taking a hearty swig and could literally feel his tongue begin to smoke. Mark sauntered to his side and eyed the drink with abhorrence and shook his head in sorrow.

“I do love you, Dean, but sometimes I wonder what will become of young men today, no offense.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at the slightly weird declaration but concluded it had something to do with the rather round snifter of Cognac in Mark’s hand. “Well, the night is young and I’m flexible. This is not the last drink you’ll see in my hand tonight,” he replied and Mark flashed him a grin and wandered off.

As an hour or so passed, and the darkness of the night settled outside the establishment, Dean began to think most of the group behaved strangely towards him. It seemed like they were very emotional about the end of the work and inevitable separation, and they were awkwardly honest to Dean who had to deal with older men’s sentimental character while tipsy. Maybe it was the genuine look of approachability and ease Dean knew he emanated.

“Okay, you big softie. We can set up Skype or something to stay in touch,” he stammered awkwardly and untangled himself from John’s suffocating embrace. John had almost started to cry against his shoulder after declarations of deep affection, and Dean didn’t know whether he dared suggest the man make his way back to the hotel to sleep it off, or let him stay in the bar to get more teary-eyed.

But towering Graham came to his rescue and guided the sniffling John towards a curious bartender who happily accepted another order. Graham turned back towards Dean and clapped him on the belly. “My best mate. You know I love you, don’t you?”

Okay, mate, sure, but best mate? As in Graham thinking Dean was his best friend? By the way, it appeared Dean had traded his Mojito glass for a shot glass that was constantly being refilled by an invisible hand. Not that Dean complained.

Next moment, Aidan stepped in front of Dean and made kissy faces at him. “I would kiss you silly if I had a pair of tits,” he beamed with white teeth in the middle of his dark stubble and it was deeply disconcerting for Dean to see those he admired behave so strangely after a few beers. Then he caught on what was going on and ominously reached behind to rip a note from his back and read it with growing frustration.

'I love you. Say it back.'

Fucking James and his pranks! How long had he had the note taped to his shirt; since he came back from the bathroom?

***

Dean crumpled the note and consciously avoided meeting the without doubt amused glances aimed his way. He opted for not acknowledging the prank and instead sauntered around the bar to Richard’s side, looking for temporary sanctuary, and a wall conveniently placed behind his back.

“Hello, there,” the man greeted sweetly and Dean could tell he wouldn’t remain annoyed for long in such kind company.

“Did you all set me up, or was it just James?”

“What?” Richard asked, clearly oblivious and Dean breathed out. “Never mind. What are you having?”

As they hung out, Richard altered between renowned whiskeys and more or less silly drinks the others ordered on his behalf, like Gin and Tonic sprinkled with flakes of lemon, Bloody Mary, and cinnamon scented Napalm that made the impressive actor’s face turn an unflattering shade of green.

“Steady on, Richie,” James called with a shit-eating grin and slapped Richard helpfully on the back so he tumbled forward and bumped into the sold bulk of some dwarf, eh, man.

Dean didn’t take the time to find out whom; it might have been Jedi-Jed, because he had impressive reflexes and had a tendency to show up where you least expected it, especially in Peter’s Tolkien productions.

The blonde was too busy sticking his tongue out at Adam who sat perched on a bar stool across the bar and stretched his ears out like wings. They had become engaged in a mute battle of pulling faces at each other. Adam created a bizarre grimace where he pulled his top lip up by hooking his thumbs into the lips, until the pink flesh above the teeth showed and simultaneously looking gravely cross-eyed. Dean burst into laugh and slammed a hand onto the surface of the counter, before a hand ruffled his hair as if he was a little boy.

“Behave, Dean,” Richard advised solemnly with an amused smile, apparently having recovered from the awful drink, and Dean felt like an idiot for acting like a ten-year old in a bar at the night of a large-scale premiere, in front of people he admired professionally at that.

“Sorry, sir. Won’t happen again, Mr. Amirite.”

Oddly enough, this somewhat slurred apology made Richard grin broadly.

“You’re smashed, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t break anything!” Dean protested grumpily, getting peeved at the accusations thrown his way from absurd British men.

He received a pat on his head. “All is fine, Dean.”

Dean nodded contentedly and felt thirsty and tired. A sensible man would have ordered a coffee or tea to sober up. Dean was way past sensible.

“Jager bomb for this attractive blonde over here!” he yelled over the noise and pointed at himself.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and his cast members start playing shot-games in the bar...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I'm struggling with AO3's way of treating updated unpublished versions and blabla, I hope this works. Thanks for your attention! It seems I'm doing something right at least. The same goes for Dean and the gang in this chapter, albeit they do get more inebriated...

“Oi! Time for shot-game, everybody. Back out now while you have the chance!” Aidan shouted in an excited voice.

Of course no-one left, too entertained by the company, and by the thought of witnessing other cast members’ mild humiliation. And all of a sudden, the cast was participating in a confused shot-drinking contest with different missions.

“Fuck, I’m never doing that again!” William gulped, exhausted after having eaten all the peanuts in a bowl in less than twenty seconds but at least he hadn’t had to drink a generous glass of vodka as forfeit.

The bartender, who was only happy to oblige when the wild bunch of men requested some help in her being a blind spinning bottle, placed her hand over her eyes and spun behind the counter until her outstretched index finger landed on Dean.

“It’s a double duel battle!” Jed shouted demandingly and superfluously, and urged her to spin again while Dean failed to remember what the dare was this round. He had enjoyed the Jager bombs too much for his own good, but the rush from the caffeine-alcohol mix was exhilarating and made him feel invigorated and perceptive.

The next person the female bartender pointed at turned out to be Stephen. Aidan punched the air and cheerfully let out, “Yes! I bet you a tenner Stephen wins.”

“Hey!” Dean replied in a snarky manner as he wobbled to his feet to meet his opponent in, what was it again?

“That’s taken!” Adam said faithfully and Dean could have kissed him for defending his honour and publically believing in him. Dean wasn't nervous as he stood in the middle of the room. He was a cool guy. He could handle anything they threw at him. An invincible, confident hero. Yeah.

James hushed the rowdy group. “Quiet now. Julie, our lovely bartender, will put on some music and then we’ll enjoy watching a dance-off!”

Dean’s confident smirk melted away. Dance? On these legs? With, shit, he couldn’t even remember, many drinks affecting him? So unfair.

“You dance ‘til the music stops, and the one we cheer on the most wins and the other gets to take the two shots. Julie, if you will…” A techno beat with a booming base that made the bottles on the wall behind the counter rattle filled the room and Dean and Stephen had everyone’s eyes on them. Dean began with the basics. Okay, there was some rhythm in the noise.

He clenched his teeth and began swaying to let his body learn the pace. His blue eyes fluttered closed as he sensed the music in his loose limbs. His shoulders rolled, he began moving his hips in circles and lifted his hands over his head, fisted and sweeping. His head lolled seductively so his hair swept back and forth and he exposed the stretch of his smooth, shaved neck and the distinctive jawline which was adorned by his golden stubble.

He knew he looked good and sensual when dancing; it was just hard to keep the balance sometimes. He flexed his biceps and began to breathe through his mouth as he quickly grew warmer. It helped a bit when his shirt rode up and left a strip of his belly bare. The music pounded in his chest and he opened an eye in Stephen’s direction as he turned on the spot to investigate how the other one was holding up. Stephen was jumping up and down as if he’d been born during a house music concert, though he looked like he was straining to keep up with the pace.

Dean opted to up the competition by getting into a crouched position on the floor and started to extend one leg and then the other with little jumps. His Cossack dance was normally impeccable and impressive. But he never recalled how much it tolled on the muscles in his thighs.

Meanwhile, Stephen had begun to make complicated gestures with his arms as if he were a rapper, which looked pretty awesome so Dean started to laugh as he bounced on the floor slower and slower until the music stopped and a pair of hands pulled him up and patted his now damp shirt. Dean panted and heard his pulse in his temple.

“Okay, let’s hear it for Dean.” A loud cheer sounded and Dean looked down bashfully.

“And for our own Mr. Hunter.”

Dean couldn’t tell who got the most response but then James was jabbing a finger in his face. “Thank you for your contribution, but we prefer clubbing over that modern dance show you were putting on at first. Stephen is the winner. You have to drink this.”

Then James put a pair of shots before Dean and winked and well, Dean was kind of thirsty anyway, so he knocked them down and only wheezed a bit from the strong vodka. As James swung around to arrange the next round, Dean thought he detected a glint in those toffee-brown eyes and that consoled him. James had totally appreciated his dance.

Dean seated himself by the counter to calm down and watched Aidan enter the next contest on endearingly wobbly legs that made him stoop to Dean’s level. It turned out Aidan had to answer five work-related questions such as: who broke what bone that time, did you put the frog in Graham’s bed, and what’s the name of the dwarves?

The last question was the easiest for Aidan and he never had to drink but maybe that was for the best. The man had rather liberally consumed Appletinis in the last few hours, trying to look sophisticated by choosing such a drink and sip it from martini glasses. In the end, Aidan ended up getting sloshed anyway and sported red ears and a constantly broad smile, as well as shaky legs.

As Aidan was congratulated by his colleagues for his feat, Dean glanced around and noticed how Mark and Peter were leaning over the counter and murmuring intensively to Julie, the bartender. Soon, she had fixed them a fresh Appletini, but when Mark gestured insistently first at the drink and then the bottles on the wall behind the counter, the woman rolled her eyes and grabbed a half-empty bottle of tasteless vodka and poured some into the drink, apparently spicing it up considerably.

Peter winked his appreciation at her and then the gents turned towards Aidan and shouted, “Champion! We’ve fixed another drink for you to celebrate your astounding memory!” Fixing being the key word.

Dean frowned as his brain tried to understand what was happening while alcohol obstructed the thoughts. So Mark and Peter had ordered the Appletinis for Aidan. And spiced them up with more vodka than the recipe demanded. And Aidan was very much drunk now. Ah, they had tricked the younger actor.

Still, it was a pretty harmless prank so far, a bit funny really, Dean thought. Poor Aidan thought he was an elegant man by ordering those drinks he had without doubt never tried before this night, and now he was becoming epically drunk instead. Dean decided not to call them out on it, all least not until Aidan was bordering on complete drunkenness. If anything, it was great to once and for all be as tall as Aidan who slouched more and more as he sat with Mark and Peter.

It was Richard’s turn to enter the challenge next, although he looked very reluctant, but since he was inside the bar, he was obligated to do the dare. It was about arguing for a point until everyone else was convinced it was the right opinion.

Ken inquired gently, “Answer this: Did Tolkien intend to sell the character Bombadill as the new version of Radagast in The Lord of the Rings Trilogy?”

Many of the cast members leered at the man they knew was a Tolkien nerd at heart. And they would watch him squirm.

Richard cleared his throat and kept his hands behind his rigid back. “It’s interesting you say that…”

"Stop being polite, Richard and just call him out on it; Ken’s an ignorant idiot who’s wrong!” John urged playfully but alerted Richard nevertheless. The dark-haired man frowned and swept his wary eyes over the lot of them.

“Are you trying to make me get into a fight?” Richard asked with suspicion and everyone shook their heads vigorously and denied the very idea of such a thing. It wouldn’t do to mention that a certain bet had been placed this morning that involved getting Richard to become a wild party animal at some point of the evening no matter how hard the man in question tried to hold onto his gentleman characteristics. One way or another, Richard would loosen up. Dean had placed his 10£ on 00.50 so he would have to make sure Richard kept engaging in drinking, or he would lose for sure.

***  
As the time went by, and the shot-game died out, Dean found himself very content with how the night had turned out so far, but the environment began to look too familiar and explored, and his stiff behind ached since he had been seated for a long time by the counter. He tapped the smooth surface of the counter and listened, only partly interested, to drunk Adam, drunk Aidan, and the very lewd James’ game of shag, marry, kill.

“Eww, no way I’d shag Celeborn and let his hands touch me all over!” Adam shuddered and James loomed over him and said with dripping vulgarity, “That depends on who’s doing the shagging, little one. Never thought of you taking him, did you?”

Adam swallowed so his Adam’s apple bobbed and Aidan threw an arm around his shoulders and commented. “Don’t worry, I’d choose like you. Rather have Elrond in my bed than a creepy, staring guy.”

“Who’s said anything about a bed? You can do well without one, too,” James suggested and waggled his brows while Dean internally facepalmed as the elder actor slowly but patiently like the devil himself corrupted the innocent ones.

“But you said you’d marry Celeborn and kill off Gimli,” Adam interjected to Aidan who scratched his nest of dark curls and exclaimed defensively, “Well, I don’t want to even imagine upholding nuptial relationship with that dwarf until death do us part!”

“But you’ve met John Rhys-Deavies! Wasn’t he a nice man? With humor and all?” Adam asked curiously, his glasses a bit askew when Aidan’s hand had happened to shift them and Aidan grimaced at him. "Mr. Rhys-Davies doesn’t equal Gimli, the character, Adam. First of all, he’s 6 ft 1. Can you picture a dwarf that big bumbling around your house 24/7?”

“But if you’ve got a dwarf that big, just imagine how big his…” James began, having clearly waited for this opportunity to present itself ever since he introduced the three characters of choice, but Dean intervened by launching himself from his stool, a questionable move so late in the night, and all but bodily shielded the two young actors from sacrificing what remained of their virtue to the verbally predatory James.

“Hey! James, you’ve won!”

Immediately interested, and a little confused, James paused and held out his hands to steady Dean’s swaying form by clutching his arms.

“Fuck, you almost scared me, Deano. What did you say about me being a winner?”

Dean conspicuously lowered his voice and tossed his head in Richard’s direction. “It’s 01.03. Armitage is still proper. I’ve lost 10£ to you. Want to collect now?”

James seemed to consider the proposal carefully and then his eyes travelled over Dean’s features and he released the supporting grip on his upper arms slowly as if still not sure whether Dean had been planning something by dashing into their small group like a war hero. Dean admitted to himself he did feel like a soldier, like he’d thrown himself on a grenade to save his fellow comrades; Aidan and Adam. Funny thing was he’d seen with his own eyes how Adam and Aidan looked in army uniforms and…

No, Dean told himself sternly. Don’t confuse real life with photography shoots. God, he was drunk when his fantasy played games with him and made him into a silly hero of stunts. Time to do something about it.

James cocked his head back and studied him with a surprisingly soft smile. “Maybe we can settle this debt later? But I always collect what’s mine, O’Gorman, remember that,” he purred.

Yep, definitely the devil, but Dean admittedly lost himself a little in the compelling eyes before him. “Yes, sir,” Dean mumbled and then twirled on the spot and waved his arms high above his head to be noticed amongst the taller men in the bar. “Hey, everybody!”

“Hello, Dean,” an inarticulate chorus answered and he rolled his eyes at their antics.

“Right, so, I want to stretch my legs a bit…”

“Too late for that, you’re as tall as you can get.” Graham called out and Dean flipped him off before continuing.

“I’m gonna head back to the hotel. Do you want to come, too, and move the party there?”

Luckily, everyone agreed that it was time to at least migrate to a place closer to their beds, but on the stumbling, loud travel through the nocturnal Wellington and into the hotel, they lost a good half of the group who claimed to be too tired to keep celebrating after the long premiere day. Most of these people were the wiser ones who knew what was sensible to do in life.

Dean however found himself three doors from his own suite, pulling a desperate and dramatic Aidan from Adam whom he clung to as the man tried in vain to get to his own suite and go to bed.

“But Aaaadammm! We neeeeed you! Come on, just one more hour. We’ll have so much fun,” Aidan complained in a whiney voice and Dean growled at the trio of Richard, Graham, and James who observed passively with wicked grins and folded arms while Dean was left to take care of the situation on his own.

“Help me a bit?” he begged to no avail and tightened his strong hold on Aidan’s waist as the writhing man attempted to pull Adam back by his tie.

“No, Aidan! Let go of his tie! I have chocolate in my room. Sweet, delicious chocolate from the hotel. I didn’t eat mine on my pillow. You can have it.”

God, he sounded like Pedobear, but it was the only bribe he could think of in the heat of the moment. Fortunately, Aidan suddenly listened eagerly and his hands went lax, enabling Adam to make his escape unnoticed.

“You have candy?”

Dean let go of him as soon as Adam had disappeared from view and nodded earnestly.

“Take me there,” Aidan ordered imperiously in an acting tone and Richard lifted his hand to cover his laughing mouth.

“Okay,” Dean conceded, wiped some dampness from his brow, and led the group to his room.

As he struggled with the keycard, James leaned into Graham and murmured quickly, “May I have the key to your Erebor?” Graham retorted, “Only if you polish your sword before you sheathe it.” They made it inside at last, before the elder men began to share more work-related, bad jokes.

***  
Richard commented once they were inside Dean’s room, “It’s very hot in here.”

“That it is, with so many great-looking men in such a small space,” Aidan snickered cheekily. Richard didn’t take notice of him, but he did remove his leather jacket and rolled up the sleeves on his shirt to his elbows, exposing the sinewy muscles and dust of dark hair on his arms. Dean was relieved; finally the phenomenal actor was beginning to relax for real.

At the more private party, the actors present were either jittery or wasted, or both in Aidan’s case, and they made the decision to push Richard in front of Dean’s laptop on his desk and enter Chatroulette.

“I’m not sure I’m allowed to do this. I am employed by Peter this evening and my contract says I’m not to expose my face…” Richard said hesitantly and squirmed on his seat.

Aidan sighed dramatically as he leaned heavily against Richard's shoulder, “Richie, listen to Aidan. Only half the world knows your face by now, and the other half just sees a nice-looking man. You’re not even wanking, so don’t worry about your reputation or you intimidating anyone. Start the game now.”

Richard faltered, and might have looked equally pale and curious. “What? Wanking?”

“People do that. But just disconnect from them and get a new person.”

James, Graham, Aidan, and Dean then sat down on the large bed or on the rug, leaning against the bedside to leave Richard alone in front of the webcam. But Richard kept asking question before participating in this particular endeavour.

“What do I do when I have a person?”

“Write stuff to them, or disconnect,” Dean helped.

Richard set his jaw and determinedly entered the online roulette. The first person was a bored teenaged boy with a blonde fringe who clicked him away.

Richard slumped and looked like a rejected puppy and rotated in his chair to his friends who burst into giggles at the abrupt dismissal. “What happened?” Richard emitted in a defeated voice.

“He didn’t want you, love. But don’t worry, we’ll get to someone who adore your handsome looks,” Dean consoled his colleague.

The next person wrote pervert before disconnecting. Richard’s shocked eyes drifted again to Dean. “How can I be a pervert? I didn’t do anything.”

“There are all kinds of impolite, crazy people out there. They are too impatient to look past the immediate exterior. At least we know your real disarming personality. Try again.”

This time Richard had to go through several people who were more or less naked, dancing, masturbating, and behaving most oddly, until he came across a composed middle-aged woman with dark curly hair who sat properly by the webcam and reached forward to type.

The other actors began to hoot and whistle at her not exactly attractive but nevertheless engaging attitude while Richard’s ears went pink and he tried to shush them without looking away from the laptop. They quieted down and leaned forward to read what she posted.

‘I know you’

Dean got a lump in his throat at the creepy words and carefully supervised Richard’s reaction. The man could always disconnect. But what were the odds Richard would meet someone he actually knew during his first time on Chatroulette?

Richard looked down at the keyboard and wrote back. ‘Who am I, then?’

“Ohh, playing mysterious, you flirty bugger!” Aidan quipped and that broke the momentary tension that had settled in the room, even though the woman squinted in her box on the screen.

“Wait, she’s answering now,” Graham pointed out and everyone looked back at the screen.

‘It was you who sold me a bad refrigerator. Burn in hell, asshole! I paid a lot for that one, and the new one I had to replace I with. I’m never visiting Chill & Kitsch again!’

Then the woman proceeded to give Richard the finger before disconnecting. The cast members erupted into a heap of laughing bodies, each fighting for air as they reread the lines from the oh-so-short chat.

Meanwhile, Richard tapped the desk peacefully and cocked his head to the side. “I think that’s enough poker for me this evening,” he murmured softly.

“Not poker; roulette! Sorry to break it to you, mate, but you totally got the bullet,” Dean howled and hung onto Aidan’s neck with his arms as ripples of laughter travelled through him.

James smiled as he sat on the bed and stroked his jeans-clad thighs, having a mischievous gleam in his eyes that never bode well. “This last try had bad news all over it. You see, either she’s delusional enough to confuse you with a refrigerator seller, or you actually have an unknown clone somewhere in the world. What if that man wants to be your personal doppelganger when he sees The Hobbit? What if the press finds him and they think you’re mixing acting career with whiteware?”

Dean wheezed out, with a breathless voice and simultaneously attempted to rearrange Aidan’s wrinkled t-shirt collar, “Can I ask one thing for my paper, Mr. Armitage? Why did you sell her a bad refrigerator?” They started to laugh louder once more but Richard let them, still amused by the online adventure.

TBC


	3. Chicken, kisses, lust

Somehow in the next thirty minutes which were spent on fighting over what song should be played next on the computer, random giggles, several shots of tequila, and some much needed bathroom breaks; a game of gay chicken emerged from the inebriated and joyful men who were competitive and comfortable with their sexuality.

The rules were simple: snog or swallow another shot. They used five toothpicks with two being shorter than the others from Dean’s bathroom to see who would go against each other. On the first draw, Dean ended up with a shorter stick, and so did Aidan, much to the amusement of the elder actors.

As Dean stood up from the comfortable bed to meet Aidan in the middle of the room, he realized he really couldn’t have another shot, his brain was becoming dangerously fuzzy, a point he knew from teenage experience bordered on his body making him throw up.

So instead he went for it and in the dimmed light and the tilting walls, Aidan actually looked sort of pretty and not exactly repulsive. So to the beat of a rhythmic track that made his heart drum against his ribcage and sweat pool in his armpits, Dean stepped into Aidan’s personal space and searched for his hands. Aidan’s long fingers tangled with his at their sides and Dean hummed softly a melody he couldn’t put a name on, as he tilted his head and brushed his nose over Aidan’s before the other man exhaled and pressed his lips against Dean’s.

Distantly, Dean acknowledged encouraging cheers and let go of Aidan’s hands to let his own hands stroke up and down the firm biceps that peeked out from the sleeve of Aidan’s casual t-shirt. They petted the other one’s lips, nipped and ran tips of tongue curiously over the soft texture; Aidan tasted of peanut and apple.

At length, they paused and nuzzled with their noses before resting their foreheads together with affection. A fun experiment, nothing more. Still colleagues and friends, brothers on-screen.

“Nice. Thanks,” Aidan emitted in a slightly breathless voice and the deep voice penetrated the fog around Dean’s mind.

“Any time,” he replied, surprised though by his husky tone, and cleared his throat before looking around. The others seemed to have held their breath until the pair broke apart, and then they grinned and clapped their hands.

“Well done, lads! You passed, although you looked like a pair of romantic virgins,” Graham called and winked at Dean who couldn’t help but become flustered at the attention. He shrugged and went to sit down on the bed. The task came to Aidan to arrange the five toothpicks for the next round. They all picked one and held them so the others could see. Graham and James would go next.

“Come here, Jimmy!” Graham chuckled and pulled James close, then he began to embrace James and all but dipped him and kissed him like the heroes in the old black-and-white movies Dean had watched when he was educated in acting.

It was passionate, seemed genuine but intense, and James could do little but hanging on, making harsh noises through his nose, until Graham eased off a bit and everyone could see how James sank his teeth into Graham’s exposed bottom lip, and pulled.

At the distracting flash of pain, Graham opened his eyes wide but James was already advancing to another base; namely placing his palms on Graham’s buttocks and kneading them thoroughly. Graham began to snicker, finally freed from the teeth, and tapped James on the shoulder to end the game.

“Cheeky bastard.”

James carried a disgustingly smug expression and patted Graham’s bottom comfortingly. “Sore loser.”

Graham frowned and stepped back to regain composure and Dean followed the senior actors’ exchange with great interest. “What do you mean? I didn’t lose.”

James scrutinized his nails in a decadent way. “Well, maybe you didn’t lose the game, but you definitely lost the upper hand. You don’t actually believe I don’t have a few aces up my sleeve when it comes to snogging?”

“Guess not,” Graham admitted and made a show of thanking James for being a decent opponent. The gentlemen returned to their seats, James on the bed beside Aidan and Graham in an armchair near Richard whose cheeks were remarkably flushed by now, surely caused by a few non-game-related shots.

James burped loudly which made everyone groan in annoyance whereas Aidan who often turned boyish when he had had a few drinks, laughed uncontrollably and dropped down on the floor to hold his aching stomach. The others let Aidan continue to be incapacitated for a while and during that moment, Graham grunted at James, “I’m eternally grateful you didn’t do that before our turn, but Jimmy, you are disgusting sometimes.”

James flipped him off and bumped his shoulders into Dean’s. “I am fucking delightful, though a bit sloshed.”

“Aren’t we all?” Richard retorted rhetorically with an eloquently raised eyebrow and James pointed accusingly at him. “You’re tipsy at tops! You need to learn to let go of yourself sometimes, Armitage.”

“He he, tipsy-tops. Topsy-tips,” Aidan added in a giggle and Dean rolled his eyes and he leaned down from the bed and easily heaved the limp man from the floor and onto the mattress beside him.

“There we go. Should we resume the game?” Dean wondered aloud as he brushed off Aidan’s front, and might have tickled him here and there in the process.

“Yeah, who has the toothpicks?” Graham inquired and received a tug on his jacket from Richard. “I have them. Kept them from the last round,” he said gently and fiddled with them to arrange them in the same way in his closed fist.

“All the way over there? I don’t have the energy to walk to you and get them, and Aidan can’t even crawl! You get here so we can pick one,” Dean protested, for he was content right where he was, but as Richard made to stand, Graham placed an enormous hand on Richard’s thigh and kept him in his seat. “No. They are lazy boys who hope you’ll do their bidding. Let them come over here if they’re so eager to play.”

Then the hand slid off the trousers and Richard ducked his head down and emitted in a more gravelly voice, “Okay, come and take your pick.”

He held out his fist and Dean got up with a sigh and staggered over to the two actors but asked before he took his toothpick, “Is it alright if I take Aidan’s? He’s not gonna move unless he gets a good reason for it.” He waved a thumb in the bed’s direction where Aidan was tracing the pattern on the comforter and singing along with the current song. Graham and Richard exchanged one look.

“Fine, it’s hard to cheat at this. But say which person each stick stands for,” Richard reasoned and then James was crowding them. They picked and it turned out Richard and Aidan would play the next round.

***

“Fancy a shot, Richard?” James remarked teasingly and held out the bottle to pour a generous shot ready to be consumed by anyone who backed out. Then a shout startled them all and when the group of men turned towards the bed, Aidan was flailing wildly and looked like an euphoric and more alert person than the one they had all witnessed only seconds ago.

“I’m to play again?! With Richard?! Oh, the envy of all those fan-girls if they knew I got to do this once in a lifetime experience.”

“Pride is a sin,” Graham reminded him with pretended sternness but the raving Aidan was already jumping up from the bed. Meanwhile, Richard looked torn between being entertainingly uncomfortable with his own appeal and mentally readying himself for the imminent task.

“This so beats the parachute jump in awesomeness,” Aidan breathed in wonder.

“Come on, the jump was pretty cool,” James grumbled, defending another of his many pranks but no-one took any notice of him for Richard came up to Aidan’s side and Dean and James returned to the bed where Dean sat straight but rested his palms behind him and watched them. Aidan confidently cocked his hip and then, as a lucky coincidence, the music changed to a sultry jazzy song with a dirty-sounding sax that made the room resemble a boudoir, or what Dean related to women’s boudoirs anyway. Either way, the music was hot as hell.

Aidan tipped his head so the curls bounced and waved Richard closer. “Take my breath away, Romeo,” he whispered huskily and upped the level of sexiness in the room considerably. Then Aidan sauntered towards the tall actor and for a millisecond, Aidan met Dean’s gaze and winked. Dean was about to ask what he was aiming at, when Aidan simply seized Richard by the waist and pushed him back into the wall before attacking his neck with insistent kisses.

Richard let out a harsh grunt from the surprising impact with the wall, and then he appeared to realize he had a young man devouring one of his erogenous zones with much enthusiasm. He grasped Aidan by the elbows and Dean noticed how good their skin looked when Richard’s pale thumb rested on Aidan’s tanned arm.

Richard was suddenly undulating his hips in seductive sways that had Aidan gasping and his cheeks quickly flushed. Dean felt warm all over and shifted on the bed. One of Richard’s hands wandered upwards and then reached around Aidan’s neck before burying in the wild locks and guiding the man to a better angle where their mouths could meet.

Then Richard, with eyes like a raptor and a dangerous grin all of a sudden, surged forward and literally claimed Aidan’s teasing mouth. The kiss had definitely turned into a hot make-out session and as Dean entranced followed the course of events, a touch at his thigh startled him. He twisted his head and met the playful eyes of James. His hand felt warm against Dean’s leg.

“Enjoying watching them, mate?” Dean felt his mouth get dry but as the seconds went by where he tried to compose a proper reply, he became aware of another heat on his body. A heat that resided between his legs and created dull pulses in his abdomen. With his eyes downcast at his lap, he chewed on his lip when the strange hand began to move in growing, teasing circles, higher on his thigh, over the inside of the thigh, then brush against…

A needy whine escaped Dean when the arousal increased and James murmured into his ear with more Irish accent than before, “Look at them again. Let me take care of you, love.”

With crested forehead due to the tantalizing fingers that explored his covered private area, Dean parted his legs slightly and glanced up at Aidan and Richard who now had large hands roaming the backs under rucked up shirts and tees, revealing their strong torsos and fit bellies.

Wow, Richard really went for it, Dean thought and made a mental note that as long as the star actor had eleven silly drinks and some wine poured into him, he was destined to loosen up and join the party with gusto. It even seemed that the chicken game had been abandoned, for no-one in the stuffy room ended the ongoing things. Richard’s forefinger ran down the dark trail of hair low on Aidan’s belly and a muffled moan of pleasure left the younger man. This prompted the alluring Englishman to grin hungrily and thrust his tongue deep into the open mouth.

They moved faster, grinded their bodies together and that was when James rubbed Dean harder; from the heated bulge down to the taut balls. Dean helplessly made a noise of pleasure and rocked into the hand to make it repeat the motion. “You’re being so good for me, Dean,” James reassured and stroked the trapped length of Dean’s member so his head lolled back and he arched his back when ripples of erotic tickles went through his trembling body.

***

Everything felt so good, especially the soft cover on the bed, and then Dean caught onto the fact that he had been guided down to lie on it, his legs still hanging over the edge and feet touching the floor. The hand kept attending to his growing hard-on and James’ eyes were fixed on his crotch. A complimentary act, Dean assumed and he pulled himself up onto his elbows to take in the rest of the present men.

Richard was grunting, had reversed his and Aidan’s position and was currently clasping a slim thigh to his hip as he kept Aidan pinned to the wall with his pelvis. And Aidan looked… gone, close, somewhere where common sense gave way to the temptation of rutting into another human. When he opened his eyes, the pupils were blown and he was sweeping the tongue over his lips to wet them at every opportunity when Richard released them for a moment to catch his breath.

“Aidan, you…” whispered Richard briskly but was interrupted by the other man’s hoarse affirmation through swollen lips, “I don’t care. Just give me more.”

James apparently grew tired of coaxing Dean’s cock and began to explore the rest of him as well, pinching his nipples through the fabric, scraping nails over the tangible squared planes of his stomach, touching his chin, jaw, lips with fluttering fingertips. Dean gritted his teeth.

Hazily, he noticed how Graham got up from his armchair behind the standing pair and strolled around them, not embarrassed in the least by the erection he clearly sported. His imperious eyes took in Dean and Jimmy on the bed and one corner of his mouth twitched upwards before he turned to the others and approached Richard and Aidan’s writhing bodies and slid his dominating hands over Richard’s sides and gripped tight, making the other man stop which resulted in a sad moan leaving Aidan.

Graham leaned his face and whispered something in Richard's ear that made the man exhaled harshly and apparently not object when the elder man started to touch Richard’s bare skin under his shirt. Dean kept an eye on them as he buried his head in the space under James' chin, and nibbled and licked the skin there. The fingers on Dean's body immediately migrated to his taut nipples and stroked and pinched them delisciously. James smelled of tequila and a musky aftershave.

Meanwhile, Graham helped Richard shedding his shirt and revealed the marble skin with dark chesthair to them all. Aidan writhed in the tight space between the other actor and the wall, needy moans escaping him. "Take care of him, then I can take care of you," Graham rumbled and Richard tightened his hold on Aidan's thigh against his hip and rocked into the exposed crotch. A grateful sigh left Aidan and as Richard resumed the maddening rhythm, Graham let one hand roam Richard's torso and the other took Richard's free hand and guided it back to his hardness behind his trousers, which made Richard stiffen at first before letting his eyelids close and the hand that reached behind clenched around Graham.

“Want to undress, too?” James inquired with a soothing whisper and nipped at Dean's ear and Dean drew a ragged breath and shook his head. “Too close. Please just take me out and make me come. Please.”

“Ah, the politeness of men at the mercy of my hand,” James marveled and unbuttoned the jeans.

TBC


	4. Handjobs, hickeys, hangovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The grand finale of the premiere night... and the next morning.

At the lessened pressure over his hard-on, blood rushed towards his cock and Dean was beyond able to explain how come he didn’t go off the second James tugged the shorts down and pulled him out.

”Oh, so the curtains _do_ match the carpet,” James emitted, sounding fascinated.

To see his enlarged member in the hands of another dude made Dean’s breath change into shallow little pants and he shifted on the bed.

“My little natural blonde,” James murmured softly and Dean desperately avoided coming only by fixing his eyes on something other than the large hand stroking his swollen cock. His gaze found Aidan, Aidan who gasped hotly into Richard’s exposed neck and clung to his broad shoulders as Richard with the help of Graham’s guiding hands on his waist, thrust hard into the juncture of Aidan’s legs.

Richard lifted the slim thigh he held by his hips to his waist and grounded fast against Aidan who released a throaty gasp before coming with his trousers still on, with a stuttered cry through a lovely gaping mouth. The hand that worked Graham’s covered length halted as Richard took in the younger actor’s ecstasy with gleaming eyes, but that made Graham release a low rumble of discontent and Richard’s fingers once more began to move.

At the end, when Aidan had almost finished riding the waves of his climax, Richard kissed him to swallow the last moans before more or less pushing the oversensitive man to the bed Dean and James were occupying. Dean held out his arm and gathered Aidan’s shaking form to his side, and as the warm man snuggled close, Dean caught a whiff of Richard’s cologne and a distinct mix of whiskey and peanut on his breath. Richard had left clear traces of himself on Aidan.

“Oh, God, Dean,” Aidan panted through bruised lips.

“Satisfied?” Dean teased and glanced down at the dark spot staining Aidan’s crotch but was interrupted in his trail of thoughts when James halted his strokes.

“You just got served, lazy bastard. You can help me taking care of Dean here. Put your knee over his thigh and bounce it into his balls. Will make him mad, I promise you that,” James requested and blessed, agile Aidan did that.

Soon, Dean was cradling Aidan to his side with a firm arm around his frame, and bucking on the soft mattress to practically ride Aidan’s nudging knee. This seemed like some kind of heated cuddling he didn’t mind at all. While James palmed his cock firmly, Aidan pinched his taut nipples until pain mingled with the pleasure, and Dean felt the surge of a beginning orgasm course through him, down to his loins.

Lightheaded with desire, he braced himself on his elbows and saw Richard and Graham get into fucking position with Richard now pressed face first into the wall and arse poking out as Graham fisted Richard’s leaking, scarlet cock and let the other man reach behind and push his trousers down his long legs and then make the boxers follow. Graham’s thick cock was poking out from his fly and his hairy chest visibly expanded and deflated with each deep breath. He kissed the exposed nape before him and a shudder went through Richard along with a small moan.

Then Aidan said to James over Dean’s head while massaging his sac with his glorious kneecap, “Do you think Dean can get it up later for a blow-job, or do you think he’ll be interested in sucking you off?”

At those words, Dean came like a freight train, and with trembles spreading in his body, he spilled cum over James, himself, and Aidan as that satisfying hand kept clenching around him through the climax. The room spun and was turned upside-down and Dean closed his eyes and only distantly acknowledged the flat, wet tongue that licked over the expanse of his sweaty neck. He didn’t know to whom it belonged, but he knew it felt heavenly.

***

While Dean did his best to regain normal breathing pattern, he heard faint sounds of fucking from the wall, and then he noticed Aidan’s slender fingers caressing his cheek gently and trailing the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck,” Dean sighed, exhausted at last as the last remnants of the Jager bomb caffeine left his veins.

“Well, what you lack in eloquence you certainly make up for in stamina, lad,” James commented lightly and wiped the large amount of cum off his hand by using the sheet, indifferent to the fact that Dean was going to sleep on that later.

Dean heaved his body up into a sitting position; his muscles felt sore but good and his head wasn’t swimming that much anymore. He just felt tired, not even having the energy to tuck himself inside his underwear, but then again, no-one in the room seemed to mind if he flashed his penis at that moment. Richard and Graham certainly were otherwise occupied; strained groans and sounds of something slick and fast reached his buzzing ears.

And yet, Aidan was still the most debauched man present.

“Shall I recap for you, Deano? Graham is, oh, he’s done now, then I suppose Graham _has_ lubed up Richard for quite some time. So I guess some shagging will ensue.”

Dean’s tired eyes helplessly caressed Aidan’s handsome features as he heard Richard and Graham start to fuck, with Richard making low moans at each thrust and Graham let out throaty grunts whenever he filled the hole with his straining cock.

“Huh,” James said slowly, “Those birds over there look positively entranced by us,” and nodded in the direction of the laptop.

Everyone in the room tensed and jerked their heads like threatened kittens towards the computer which displayed not Chat Roulette but the playlist.

Dean’s heart had almost stopped beating when he for a millisecond thought their act had been seen and filmed by someone online. He had seen his entire actor life flash before his eyes during that instant, seen the dark headlines on newspapers about the Hobbit cast gangbanging each other in public without minding kids who admired them as model actors, sex tapes forever haunting his career.

James smirked lightly. “Fooled you.”

“For fuck’s sake, Nesbitt!” Aidan exclaimed harshly and Dean smacked James on the back of his head, because he did deserve it after that fright. Then Aidan pushed the elder actor off the bed and James sulked until animalistic, positively R-rated moans came from Richard and Graham who had resumed shagging.

Dean guessed Graham was venting his annoyance with James by fucking Richard harder, and his speculation was further fuelled when Graham grunted and backed away to move them to the cleared desk and bent Richard over it. Powerful thrusts from Graham made the less inhibited Richard let out filthy sounds. As Graham slammed his hard cock into Richard faster and faster, the other man tried to keep up with him and at the same time pump his own shaft.

Dean could smell the sex in the air, a hazy mix of cologne spiced with sweat, musky sperm and delirious heat. His eyes again wandered to the rocking couple and he saw Graham reach around and caress Richard’s cock, grunting for them all to hear into Richard’s ear, “Imagine it; two women watching you taking it from me so eagerly, them seeing how the others were pleasuring Dean, how you shamelessly expose yourself, and ask for it with your begging mouth and spread legs.”

Graham proceeded to suck the earlobe in front of him and entered Richard with more vigor so he reached deep inside the stretched hole. Richard arched his back and cried out with a broken voice and moved back onto Graham’s retreating cock. Then the younger actor tensed and his frame shook as Graham drove himself in once more in the same manner.

Richard came with a masculine, velvety groan as Graham clutched him to his hairy, shining chest. Sadly, or maybe not, that was the point where Dean blacked-out, he couldn’t tell for sure, but that was indeed the end of the night he did remember.

***

He was dying. He was too young to die, and too handsome.

Dean moaned sorrowfully beneath the soft pillow as a hell raising morning alarm sounded from his phone. When he sacrificed his eyes to intolerable sunlight shining through the windows it was in favor of finding his phone, which lay next to him on the bed, and switch off the noise to spare his poor ears.

Either way, he woke with a headache. And stark naked, except for an unbuttoned but wrinkled shirt that didn’t belong to him, but Dean was way past remembering who wore what last night. Another mystery was: who had undressed him?

He seldom got so carried away, or drunk, but he supposed it was some sort of outlet of adrenalin after the long project had been completed and he just wanted a good time with the rest of the cast who had become his close comrades. As he commanded his muscles to co-operate when he got up, he did notice the others had vacated the room, but left it in a state of chaos. And Dean, kind as he was, couldn’t let the hotel take care of such extraordinary mess and so, he would have to clean some parts of the room.

His mouth was parched and disgusting. Swearing at his friends and at himself for getting so stupidly drunk that he invited those animals into his room last night, Dean stumbled to the bathroom to inspect his appearance in the mirror. Before that however, he blindly reached for a glass and poured water in it before drinking it all. Then he looked into the mirror and squinted to make out the image.

Someone had scribbled lipstick words on both his cheeks. Dean endured the pain of making his eyes read the mirrored text on one cheek, then the other.

 _Save a pony. Ride a dwarf_.

Terribly funny, really. God, why was he friend with that gang again? Dean braced himself against the basin. This was the reason he not so often nowadays let himself pass out in company of others, because people will take advantage of a sleeping guy. Dean scowled as he began to wash off the message. As the cooling water ran down his neck, some drops reached his collar and when Dean dabbed a towel at it, he saw a bright hickey.

“Shit!”

Pure panic stabbed his gut at the mark, considering he was supposed to be a guest on a fucking talk show this morning!

“Fuck! Shit, shit, shit!” Dean hyperventilated and more or less launched himself into the cabinet beneath the basin to find the make-up he had stolen for fun from the make-up department. Thankfully, he did find, under the smudged red lipstick, a powder-box.

While feeling very dandy-esque and not like a lumberjack at all, Dean held his breath and dabbed the sponge at the suction mark. It…paled.

“Yes! Oh, yeah, baby, that’s great!” he praised the powder absently and managed in a few seconds to successfully hide the red hickey. He would never ever in the future mock girls who after all possessed the ability to conceal love bites. When the area on his neck looked decent, Dean put down the soft sponge and decided to dress later in a plaid shirt that had a collar. Never underestimate brutal lights in a studio that can expose a lot.

He also chose to postpone the much needed shower until after breakfast because he was famished and already late. It made much more sense really to shower later when he was going to dress nicely anyway. For now, a simple set of clothes and a stench of sweat and party would have to do.

He grimaced at the small wrinkles and the greyish hue on his face the spectacular hangover’s wake. He let the disheveled, curly hair be, because he simply didn’t have the energy to put on a show for his closest friends. If he took them as they were, they had to have the courtesy of taking him as he was. Hickeys not included, though.

***

On his way out, when Dean tortured himself by trying to tie his shoelaces, he frowned at the distinct skid marks on the carpet where the desk had been violently shoved by some force, the crumpled prank note James had written, the embarrassing stains on the sheets, and a pair of briefs that he didn’t remember seeing yesterday amongst the glimpses he got of other boxers and underwear.

James’.

Dean shook his head with the beginning of a charming smile on his face. It must have been a last spur of the moment idea for James to run naked through the corridor to his own room. Poor anyone who had to watch the hotel’s surveillance camera; and consequently the exposed white behind of a drunk Irishman.

When Dean entered the dining room of the hotel, all the other dwarves having breakfast at a large, round table so he walked over to join them. Up close, they were a sorry, subdued bunch of middle-aged, not in the least proud, actors. Except Adam, who chattered cheerfully with Mark as his simultaneously played a game on his phone and indulged a ham sandwich. Dean vehemently envied Adam’s healthy colour and air of freshness.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty is finally up,” Stephen shouted happily and received a cuss on his head for shouting when the other nursed their individual hangovers.

James however audibly winced as his dark eyes eagerly scanned Dean’s form, no doubt memorizing his appearance for his own entertainment. Dean dropped himself in a chair beside Aidan and the dark-haired man tapped him lightheartedly on the leg.

“You don’t have a styled look anymore, unless haystack is trendy again. Poor stylist who’s going to take care of that madness of Sleeping Beauty hair.”

“That’s not Sleeping Beauty, silly; it’s Rapunzel,” Jed added and then the bickering had begun once more.

Meanwhile, Richard was stirring his tea, having reverted to his usual gentle nature tinted with a bit of guarded nobility, although Dean noticed how his eyes drifted towards Graham now and then while the other man was biting into toast after toast with an admirable appetite considering the amount of alcohol they had all consumed last night. Dean thought one of Richard's earlobes looked redder and more swollen than the other and was secretly pleased that he was not alone in hiding hickeys.

It was almost entertaining, thought Dean, to know he would always have the, fairly clear, memory of cast members giving in to pleasure and even the demure leading actor moaning with abandon as a bigger man was pounding deep into…

Dean cleared his throat and averted his eyes, not wanting to think further on that right now when he was more busy nursing a hangover than nursing a hard-on.

Aidan leaned his head into him and emitted through the corner of his slightly swollen mouth, “You owe me dry-cleaning for my jeans.”

Dean faintly remembered the stains on Aidan’s trousers last night and objected. “Most of the cum was yours. I’ll pay you nothing.”

Aidan slumped in his seat and pouted, so Dean cheered him up by whispering, “Horny, Irish teenager for coming in your pants like a bad boy.”

That earned him a cheeky grin and peace prospered between the two of them.

“Does anyone know what to expect on the talk show later?”  Dean asked the others as he snatched a yoghurt cup from the table. William spoke up with a sullen tone that was fitting to the paleness on his cheeks, “I heard something about a juvenile take on the interview. I don’t give a fuck as long as we don’t have to climb a playground in front of an audience.”

“But you’re not coming with us, are you, Richard?” asked James with a playful lint and Richard coughed on his tea and dropped his napkin on the floor at the same time. Graham glowered sourly at James who didn’t look deterred in the least. Thankfully the others actors appeared blissfully ignorant.

“No, he’s going somewhere else with the elite in the production. We’re just the scrap that has to deal with funny questions,” Peter remarked.

Suddenly hungering for retribution for the lipstick and the note and the cum on his sheets, Dean boldly spoke up; aware that not everyone in the company knew how the night had ended but would be very much interested in any mortifying details.

“James, I hope you behave in that studio as well as here, seeing that both establishments have _surveillance cameras_ in the corridors.”

Finally a nerve twitched near the elder actor’s left eye and James suddenly carried a look of guilt and uncertainty. Dean cocked his head arrogantly and brought a spoonful of yoghurt to his mouth. It would be fun; the talk show interview. He simply had to endure it. At least he wasn’t alone in the trial. He had great friends around him and he wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.

***

 *Two hours later*

James grinned like a shark that smelled blood.

“The best special effect you see in the whole experience is Dean O’Gorman’s face this morning.”

Dean made an internal facepalm. He couldn’t believe that James would publically rat him out like that. Why did the crazy Irishman have to reveal Dean’s hangover when he'd gone to great lengths to look presentable despite the pounding headache he’d nursed ever since he had finished breakfast and then thrown up the yoghurt in his bathroom while in panic cleaning the room before the personnel arrived, and fixing himself?

And Nesbitt might also intentionally refer to their raunchy activities, and his climax face last night which technically could be called morning since they had hung out in Dean’s room way after midnight. Oh, who was he kidding, of course James hinted at that even though only two other actors present, except Dean, would pick up on it, namely Aidan and Graham.

Dean could vouch that Mr. Nesbitt was the devil incarnated.

While smiling shyly as the others petted and awwed him, he hoped to be allowed to avoid elaborating the topic as he shifted to the next petite chair. His thighs burned from the many movements over small furniture, and God, he shouldn’t have tried to do the Cossack dance while inebriated. For five whole minutes! But he had to concentrate now on what elaborate answer he would give to whatever silly question the interviewer was throwing at him.

The joyful woman tapped her cards and said, “This one is a good one. How fast can you say all the names of the dwarves?”

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's the fill. Feel free to send me feedback in comments and kudos. I hoped you liked it.


End file.
